Darian
by Harman Flint
Summary: The story of a dragon mercenary, Darian, as he tries to find a place in the world. Please read and review.
1. prolouge

Authors note: Alright, first things first, I don't own any characters from the Spyro the dragon or legend of Spyro series, and I don't claim to. The only characters I own are the ones I have made myself, and the same is true of the characters in the Dragon's only Role play.

Now that that's over with, I would like to state that, when I come to the parts from the actual Role play, I may change something's simply for theatrics, and I will be adding a few new scenes. I do not claim in any way that these would have happened had the story gone on, after all this is fan fiction first and foremost, so those parts should be treated like the majority of fan fiction, the authors interpretation.

The vast majority of this story will be events outside of the aforementioned RPG, so if you simply looking for a summary of that RPG, then look elsewhere.

Finally, if you see a symbol like (1), it means refer to the footnotes for further information. Now, without further adieu, let the story commence.

end authors note.

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Along time ago, the world that we know now did not exist. Instead, there were some loosely connected countries that had no names. Scattered throughout these countries were a variety of tribes of dragons separated based on color. It was simply the way of things back then. Among these many races of dragons, two stood out from the others, two tribes that everyone knew. Those were the purple dragons and the black dragons.

The purple dragons were perhaps the smallest tribe out there. They were an elitist bunch, who believed that they could trace their lineage all the way back to the dragon that created the universe itself. Whether or not it was true, one thing was for sure, and that was that they were stronger than anybody else was. They were the ones who started the separation of the tribes in fact, to preserve their bloodlines and split themselves from the rest of us, whom they considered impure. They were a proud tribe, filled with only the strongest and smartest.

The black dragons, on the other hand, were quite the opposite. They were as gentle as the dragons come. They were the thinkers of the dragons, always calm, always caring, and always willing to help the other tribes if necessary. They made many allies this way and entered a long prosperous golden age, creating some of the best music, most beautiful paintings, and gripping stories ever created. (1)

The golden age didn't last them long though. As they began to become more and more powerful, the purple dragons became increasingly jealous. They brought their greatest strategists together, and devised a plan.

It started simply, as most plans do. The purple dragons began spreading an antagonistic image of the black dragons, sending in disguised soldiers to steal from the other tribes. The soldiers always made sure there were witnesses, and so slowly dislike began to build. The talk in all of the tribes now was that the blacks were abusing their power, that they were even worse than the purples. (2)

When the purple dragons rallied for war, many of the tribes were more than happy to join them. The blacks, on the other hand, weren't ready at all. They rallied quickly however, and their focus on the arts soon turned to focus on war. As much as they hated it, they had to fight or be replaced. And so they fought. They managed to turn some of the tribes who they had helped more than others to their side, and the war that the purple dragons had started so deviously turned into a long bloody stalemate.

However some dragons didn't go along with all the nationalism that had been created by jealousy and greed. One of them, a large purple by the name of Elnir Sorc, was my father. He had joined the war, feeling it was necessary to bring things back to normal, and he had garnered many awards on the battlefield. Eventually, however, he had gotten sick of it. He left the purple dragons all together. On the way through black dragon territory he was attacked, and badly wounded. One of the Black dragons, a former writer who had turned to a weapons smith to help the war effort, took pity on him. Her name was Annara Saikov, and she was my mother.

She took him in and treated his wounds, and in turn he told her his stories; of the fights he had been in, of his displeasure with the society that he was a part of, and of what the purples had gone through to start this war. With each story she fell for him more, and by the time he was healed enough to travel, she had decided to go with him.

He had had his reservations about this at first, but eventually he realized that he wanted her with him anyway. So they both set out and traveled deep into the lands that the dragons had not explored, known to most as the dark lands. It was a harsh area; the only foods available were various rodents, and the occasional small game. Traveling around the area were all kinds of hostile beings, most notably the long forgotten tribe of the silver dragons, vicious killers who simply journeyed around killing anything they saw. But the two dragons survived.

One day, they finally decided to do what they had been wanting to for ages. They made love, and three weeks later my mother bore an egg into the world. In another four weeks, I was born. I was a strange looking dragon, different from any of the others. While most of the other dragons I met (We had occasional visitors from the dragon realms) had scales that formed together into one large layer. My scales, instead, stuck out, much like a porcupine's quills. To make things even stranger, my scales were oddly colored, each separate scale started purple at the base, where they connected to my skin, but slowly darkened as it came towards the tip, where they were the purest black. This strange mutation wasn't necessarily a bad thing though. It gave me a very strong outer layer of protection, and I've personally always liked the look of it.

Living in the Darklands wasn't the most fun life for a child, I constantly had to work; I was as much a member of the family as the others, and I had little to do in my free time except read the poems and books that my mother wrote. She was quite a gifted writer, and I grew up with an intense love of the arts.

I don't really remember too much of my early childhood years. They went by quite quickly. The first memorable event I can remember came on the equivalent of my fifth human birthday (3). I was working as hard as I ever had, and all of a sudden, my parents said that they had a surprise for me. My mom got up from where she had been sitting, and revealed that under her was an egg of pure silver. I was as excited as any big brother would have been. On the day he was supposed to hatch, my mother and I both waited anxiously. The tell tale cracking sounds started, and as my mom began to move off of it, it shattered into tiny shards. My mother, standing over the egg as it broke, was killed instantly as the pieces shot through her soft underbelly.

I picked the kid (4) up, ready to slit his throat for killing my mother, but before I could, I heard my dad's voice:

"Darian, No!" Begrudgingly I stopped. "He has just as much right to live as you do Darian. It was an accident."

As much as I hated it, I knew my dad was right. I let him live. I gave him another chance.

He was truly just as odd looking as I was. He was a silver dragon, which seemed near impossible, considering the colors of his parents. As if that weren't strange enough, he didn't even seem to have scales. Instead he had a strange, fleshy layer not unlike the skin of humans. He had sharp, long claws that were the same bright silver as the rest of his body. His head was slightly larger than a normal dragon, and he was incredibly fast, perhaps due to his lack of scales. Looking at him always gave me a slight chill… (5)

Life pretty much went back to normal for the next few years. We worked harder than ever before, now that we had another mouth to feed. The silver dragons had finally settled down, in fact after the child was born, the tribes seemed to disappear all together (6). I was charged with taking care of the child, whom I later came to call the puppeteer. Despite years of being a mercenary, I would probably say it was my worst job to date. From the day he learned to talk, he was constantly saying the strangest things; he was always taking about whether Beings were inherently good or inherently evil, or what our true purpose was.

I tried to answer his questions, but often times I found myself stumbling over my own words in our conversations. Even at a young age he was a skilful debater, and he seemed to know much more about the world than he should have.

It was right around the time that I was turning the equivalent of ten human years old that I was walking slowly in the forest, looking for food. I spied what appeared to be a dead dear lying in the grass. I walked up to it, excited. After all, it wasn't often that one would find free food, let alone dear. As I walked up to the carcass, I noticed that all the skin had been sliced off quite cleanly. Sliced into the meat of it was the word, "kill" and a crudely drawn picture of my father was sketched next to it. I bolted back to the camp as quickly as I could. My father was lying in a pool of dark red blood. On top of his body was my brother.

"Hello, Darian," he said. I stood there for a moment, trying to comprehend what was going on. "Lackeys, kill him!" I heard the puppeteer say.

I ran. I bolted away as quickly as I could. I glanced behind myself, and saw I was being followed by a pair of rabid animals, a dear, and a moose. I tried my best to lose them, but they were tracking me close, and I was tiring. Then all of a sudden I was falling. The smell of shit hit me like a brick, and I realized I was at the bottom of our family latrine. I threw up, as one might expect. The smells were unbearable, and on top of that, it seemed I had landed on a flies nest.

I waited down there, with that terrible stench, those damn annoying flies, and the fear of being discovered for what must have been an hour before I finally had the courage to fly up to ground level again. As I landed on the outside, I couldn't see the puppeteer anywhere. I was glad, for a moment, perhaps, then I realized I was covered in shit, piss, and bug bites. On top of all that, I had nearly been killed by my little brother, and I was completely and utterly parentless.

I sighed. As much as I wanted to just give up, I knew that that would be a silly thing to do. My brother had wanted me dead, so I needed to keep on living. It was simple common sense. I went and cleaned myself off in the nearest river, working as hard as I could to get the stench out of my scales. Every bone in my body was aching from trying to get away from those beasts. Once I was finally clean, I headed back towards my camp. It was mostly intact, though our food supplies had been emptied. If I had had any strength left in me that night, I probably would have gone out hunting, but instead I decided not too. By which I mean I collapsed out of exhaustion the moment I was safe within our tent.

Many things had changed in such a short amount of time. I now had to fend for myself, though that wasn't that big of a deal. I may have only been a ten year old, I had learned to live in this harsh climate, and while I would have to do all the work now, I would only have to take care of myself. My parents were now both gone and I would never see either of them again. That was truly a bitter pill to swallow. I had loved them both more than they could've known. Perhaps the worst part of all of this was the fear. The puppeteer had left, yes, but what if he came back? I doubted that I could face him, but it was a hurdle I would leap when I was ready for it. For now, I slept peacefully, and dreamed of my mother and those pretty poems she wrote.

(1): Dragons have some of the most powerful magic in existence at their command, and this allowed them to become semi-human like for short periods. This allowed them to paint and write in the same way humans did.

(2): This is actually where the general prejudice against black dragons came from; ironically the purples who started it have taken on a role as protector of the universe.

(3): Dragons age differently than humans do. Dragons go through the changes a human would in one year over about five years, during childhood. As they mature, however, this becomes even longer. Once dragons are the equivalent of fifteen in human years, the difference becomes closer to twenty years. Dragons have drastically longer life spans than humans do. From here on out, I will be referring to my age in terms of human years. My true age can be found through multiplication.

(4): He had a name, at some point, but it has been lost to the ages. Even he refers to himself as the puppeteer, these days.

(5): It is highly likely that our strange physical appearances were due to this being the first or at least first known, case of a black dragon and a purple dragon mating. Historical records from after the wars ended would suggest that other cases of interracial breeding produced similar results.

(6): This was most likely the puppeteer's fault, in fact. His mind was extremely powerful from the beginning. It's quite possible he either killed all of the silvers, or converted them with his mental abilities.


	2. And out come the wolves

Authors Note: All right, just to clear it up for anyone who wasn't involved, the dragon's only RPG was a role play on a now non-existent site forum. It was ended because it got ridiculously boring and cliché. Now as far as this story goes, It is taking one, specific part, (my character) and examining his life.

So, on to the story!

* * *

I woke up the next morning and examined the camp a little closer. Our rain barrel, our only source of clean water, had broken, and I set about fixing it.

After I finished with that, I went to my father's body. He didn't seem dead; there were no wounds on him except for one barely noticeable incision. His heart had stopped, though, and so I started to dig his grave. After the hole was dug I stood over his body for a few moments. Almost on a whim, I cut two scales from the rest of his body, and placed them in one of the small pockets of space between my scales and my layer of skin, as I had done with my mother (1). After this, I slowly began to fill the grave. Once that was done, I took a few sticks off the ground and spelled out my father's name. It wasn't the most glamorous grave, but my father wouldn't have wanted more. He was a humble man after all.

As I finished the grave completely, I said a quick prayer, and left to hunt. I wanted to spend more time, simply sit in silence for a while, but I knew I couldn't. Living in the darklands, I didn't have the time to give the dead their due. That was simply the way of things.

I've always enjoyed hunting. Facing a single target in a primal contest of will appeals to me, for some reason. I searched around the camp for any sign of an animal. (2) After a short while I found some small tracks leading off into the forest. Elated, I followed them. It had been ages since I had last caught something.

The tracks slowly got fresher, and that meant I was close. Finally I came to a large clearing, and there sat my target, a moderately boar, with three spears through its head. I walked slowly into the clearing, and saw two young wolves standing there. My father had mentioned the wolves once or twice before, he said they were a rather unorganized group of hunters who traveled around the darklands, searching for a permanent home. He told me that they did some great service for the gods, and because of this they were blessed with the ability to walk on two feet. They weren't outwardly hostile, but from what he'd said, they could put up a hell of a fight when provoked.

"Hello there," I called. I watched them carefully. They didn't seem like they were planning to attack me.

"This is our food, dragon, leave, or we'll be eating you tonight." One of them said. As much as I didn't want to fight right then, I needed the food, and I hadn't found something as good as a boar in ages.

"Good luck," I said. My parents had taught me to fight, and while I wasn't the strongest due to my young age, I was a dragon, and I had just gained my fire breath.

As they ran towards me, I let out a blast of flames. They stumbled backwards, their fur now afire. I took that opportunity, and sliced at one of them, the one who had spoken. His fur was thick, but I managed to break his skin slightly. As the other came towards me from behind, I lifted my tail and struck it as hard as I could. My scales are quite sharp; they're practically weapons in themselves. He staggered back a bit, then grabbed my tail, and despite profusely bleeding hands, swung me into a tree.

I fell to the ground. I could feel a bit of blood in my mouth, and my left side had gone quite numb. I looked back at the two wolves, both of whom had left me to attend to their other catch. I grabbed one of their spears out of the boar with my mouth, flapped into the air, and stabbed it into the head of the one who I had tail swiped as hard as I could, using the momentum of my flight to propel myself. He fell to the ground, blood pooling beneath him. The other seemed to stand, paralyzed, for a few moments, and then went into a mad rage. He rushed towards me, and I knew I couldn't dodge out of the way in time. I prepared to take the hit…

But it didn't come. I heard a female voice a moment before the attack would have hit me.

"Hold it, Josef." The voice said, and I looked up to see a young looking wolf, just entering the clearing. She appeared to be about twelve (3) and her fur wasn't as thick and knotted as the other two. It was slightly longer, though, and maybe a shade or two brighter. She looked somewhat angelic, at the time.

The wolf that had been attacking me looked up. "Trasha, he killed Nelean!"

She snorted. "I devised that from the situation, Josef, but thanks for showing me that you think I'm an idiot." She walked up to me, her foot-claws crackling the dirt slightly. "So you managed to take one of our patrol members all by yourself? I'm impressed. What's your name?"

Josef stared incredulously. "Trasha what the hell are you doing, he killed one of our men! How can you speak with him so freely?"

"To be honest, I'm kind of glad. Nelean was a boring old ass anyway. Everyone on the patrol hated him; except for you, apparently. Besides, you should be thankful. With your fighting ability you'd probably be dead now, if I hadn't interfered. Now where were we… Oh, yes, your name, dragonling?" She said.

I looked up at her. She looked… sympathetic, somehow. "I'm Darian. I was after this food, and your men got to it first, so I fought them for it. You have some strong hunters." I said. I couldn't believe she was helping me get away with this.

Trasha smiled. "You see Josef? This is a big misunderstanding. All he really wanted was food. You shouldn't be so quick to judge people." She had a large smirk on her face, and her voice bled pure sarcasm.

Josef looked at me with an intense, burning hatred. "But he took one of our men, Trasha; he must be punished for that at least."

Trasha frowned for a moment, and then a slight smile came back. "You know you're quite right. I can't let this go unpunished." An evil grin showed itself on Josef's face. "Darian, I think you should come and work with us. You killed one of our hunters, so it's only fair that you should replace him."

Josef's jaw dropped. "Trasha, you can't, the leader will never allow it…" He said.

Trasha chuckled. "I am your superior, Josef. The leader listens to me, not you."

Josef seemed to back off with that.

"So, I say we should probably head back to our camp. Our leader will probably want to hear about this." She said. We began walking on a carefully concealed path through the forest. I had never taken the time to really look around in this area.

This part of the darklands received far less sun than the rest of the place, and the trees showed it. While the majority of the darkland's trees had bright green leaves, these ones had large, dark black leaves, to absorb the maximum amount of sunlight. They also had developed a thick, oily outer layer, largely due to the powerful dust storms that occasionally blew through. (4) The trunks had developed a purple hue from the tainted rains that fell in this area (5) and there were small poisonous berries that glowed with an eerie luminescent light when trees absorbed more sunlight than they could use. It gave the entire area a very foreboding feel, but at the same time it was more beautiful than anything I had ever seen before.

I tore my eyes from the scenery to see that we were nearing the camp. It was pretty standard as far as camps went. The tents were of a rather simple design, not at all elegant, and they were set up in rows of ten, with a large tent that I assumed belonged to the leader they had mentioned earlier. There were about one two hundred wolves there total.

I was led to the tent that belonged to the leader. As we entered into it, I saw a great hulk of a wolf. His face was battered and bruised, but he looked oddly kind. I doubted I had any reason to fear this one.

"Trasha, I see you brought back some dinner," He said, in a loud, bellowing voice that seemed to fill up the already roomy tent, "But who is this dragon you have brought back with you?"

Trasha told him what had happened, sparing a couple of minor details to make it seem a bit more reasonable. He seemed to think for a moment or two after she finished.

"Very well, if that's what happened, then I suppose I will allow you to stay, as long as you will help us in anyway we might need of you." Josef now seemed ready to explode, but he kept his tongue, for the moment. (6)

Trasha led me off to a small tent on the edge of the camp. It was quite worn out, with a few large rat-holes here and there, but it was serviceable.

"If you have any other belongings, simply tell us where they are and we'll bring them here," She said.

"I can't think of anything," I said. Anything that I owned was stored in my scales. "Though, I would like to ask you a question…"

"Go ahead," she said. Her voice was a bit bored, but she seemed to be genuinely interested.

"Why are you doing all of this for me? I mean, you saved my life, and you let me come here even after I killed one of your own. Why?" I said.

"I don't really know why myself… I mean, Nelean was a boring old ass, but that doesn't mean he needed to die, and while I would do just about anything to tick off Yosef, this might be a step too far. I suppose, really, it's because I like you." She stared at me for a few moments, then stalked off, into the distance, the sun just beginning to dip below the endless lines of trees.

I wasn't sure whether I liked this place as much as my old campsite, but maybe, I thought, I could live this new life. I went into the tent and lay down to sleep on the small cot that lay there. (7) I remember sleeping well that night. The cot wasn't the most comfortable thing I had ever laid upon, but it was serviceable.

I woke that next morning well rested. I stretched a little, and noticed that food had been left there for me. I examined the boar, and found three spear holes in it. I guess they decided to give me the boar after all. I checked it over briefly for any poisons. It might have been a paranoid move to make, but I didn't really know very much about Josef, so I couldn't be too careful. It seemed clean, so after roasting it quickly, I set about eating it. I had worked up a beastly hunger the previous day, so I ate quite ravenously.

As I finished it, I stepped out of the tent into the pale morning light. The sky was overcast, and it rained slightly. The camp seemed to have awoken some time earlier. I looked out over the lines of tents, wondering what I was supposed to be doing.

I saw Trasha coming towards me out of the corner of my eye, and waved to her.

She waved back cordially, smiling slightly. "Morning, Darian. Sleep well?" She yawned; it seemed she too had only gotten up recently.

"Quite," I said. "And you?"

"Not bad."

I looked at her in silence for a moment. "Do you have any idea where I'm supposed to be?"

She smirked at that. "Oh, yes, we never did tell you, did we? Each morning you report to the leader's tent for orders."

"Thanks. I'll see you." I walked away towards the tent, pushing the flap open with my head. The chieftain looked over at me.

"Darian, nice of you to show up. You're going to be on Trasha's crew. Please give this to her." He passed a small envelope to me. I pushed it between two of my scales.

"Understood." I nodded my head in a sort of bow, and left quietly, the tent flap closing behind me.

I walked around the camp, looking for Trasha. As I did though, I couldn't help but notice the wolves. They all looked very worn out, as if they were in the grips of a large calamity, and yet I could see no such terror in these neatly placed rows of tents. Save the people themselves, everything looked quite clandestine. As I marveled, I noticed Trasha sitting with a small group of wolves. I walked up to her; she noticed and stood.

"Well, Darian? What 'cha got, you on trash duty? Mindless errands?" She asked, mockingly, as seemed to be quite normal with her. A few of the wolves chuckled; most of them seemed to be ignoring me.

"No, actually, I've been assigned to your crew. Unless that's what you mean by trash duty," I said. It was lame, I knew, but it was the best retort I could think of. Remembering, I pulled the letter out of my scales with my mouth, then handed it to Trasha. "The chief told me to give you this."

She took it, her small, lithe fingers opening it in a single fluid motion. The other wolves, whom I assumed were her crew members, were now staring at me, as if I was an alien, and in a sense I suppose I was. They were a team of all wolves, and I was an outsider. Not to mention how doubtful it was that anyone of them had ever seen a dragon before, except perhaps the occasional silver dragon who happened through. The silver dragons had rarely gone this deep into the Darklands as they preferred to live in areas with more sunlight. (8)

Their probing stares were interrupted as Trasha put the letter down. "We've got a special task today, boys!" she said, and her words were instantly followed by loud howls of happiness among the crew. It seemed special tasks were good things. Thinking, it was easy to see why, considering how monotonous constant hunting must be.

Yet, I couldn't really sympathize with them. They seemed to take these tasks as fun diversions from everyday life. When they hunted it was for fun. When I had hunted, it was because I needed to eat.

Somehow though, I found myself a bit elated as well. I hadn't known very many people throughout my life; this was a chance to make some new friends.

Trasha had a strange way of knowing what people were thinking, and so she decided to shift attention towards me.

"Well," she said, looking amused, "I suppose if you're working with us I should introduce you to our little team." She lazily pointed her finger towards the first of the wolves. "This is Nathaniel. He's the strongest of us. He has a bit of a tough guy complex going, but he's probably the softest among us, really." She smiled towards the wolf. I looked him over. He had large, bulging muscles, and his fur was charcoal black. He had a few scars across various parts of his body.

I hadn't really had much experience with people in general, but I could tell the look he was giving me wasn't hate. It was closer to indifference. He didn't really know anything about me, and so he didn't really have any feelings about me either way. It was a surprise for me, with the exception of Trasha; I hadn't really expected anything more than hostility from these strange creatures.

Trasha pointed to the second person in the line. "This is Tobias. He's a sneak and a prankster. I wouldn't trust a word that comes out of his mouth.

He smiled at her. "Now, now, Trasha, just because YOU don't like me…" She smiled back.

"Tobias, if there's anyone who likes you, I recommend you get switched over to their patrol so that we don't have to deal with you. Moving on…"

I looked at Tobias for a moment. His fur was heavily matted and he smelled somewhat of garlic. He didn't seem trustworthy.

"This one," she said, pointing to another member, "is Desgae, He's agile, he's got some muscles, and he's more full of himself than an Elsnieth flower in mid-June (8). Be careful with him."

His fur certainly wasn't matted, in fact he was probably the best groomed of anyone there. His fur was smoothed out and bright white, it almost appeared that he had trimmed it back a bit. The look on his face was one of deviousness. I made a note to watch him.

Finally, she pointed to the last member of the group. "This is Banron. He's a serious business type. He's trustworthy, but good luck trying to get him into a conversation."

He didn't seem particularly special. He looked rather strong, but very calm. Something about him seemed familiar, though I couldn't quite place from where. I decided to ignore this for the moment.

Trasha turned towards us. "Alright boys, listen up, we're going into the woods today. We'll be searching for some artifact that crashed out there not too long ago. I don't need to tell you all how dangerous the wilderness can be, but we need to cover ground quickly, so we're going to be heading out in two person teams. Keep your eyes open, I don't want to be losing any of you… well with an obvious exception." She looked menacingly towards Tobias for a couple moments. "Since we no longer have an odd number of people, you won't have to go alone this time, Tobias. You'll be searching with Darian."

Tobias snorted. "You're sticking me with the newbie?"

"Yes." Trasha said, her voice menacing. She gave him a look that asked 'what, did you expect anything more?'

Tobias grudgingly abated.

"So, do we know anything other than what you've told us? Like maybe what this object looks like?" She didn't seem to like me asking.

"All we know is that the flight path leads us to believe it crashed in the third sector of the deep forest. Now if you ever interrupt me like that again, I guarantee you that I won't be nearly as pleasant as I am being now."

I wondered for a moment why she was being so hostile. I hadn't done anything to offend her, had I? Then I realized the answer. She was trying to look tough in front of her team. If she let them see her being nice to a newbie, or being any less macho than one of the males, they would lose respect for her. I was an outsider after all. So, I decided, I would have to live with it. She had saved my ass after all. I owed her one.

We headed off into the forest, splitting off as we had been told, and made our way carefully into the wilderness.

(1) The way my scales are set up allows me to stow small items away with relative ease. I can carry all manner of items like this.

(2) Oddly, I didn't find any track left by the puppeteer as I searched. I it's possible he covered them as he left, but it remains somewhat of a mystery to me, even now.

(3) The average lifespan for a wolf is about thirty years, meaning that she was about middle-aged in their society.

(4) The Darklands are often pointed to as a proof of evolution; almost every plant and creature has developed some sort of unique trait that helps it to live in the harsh conditions.

(5) Most believe that these were caused by human interference; indeed some groups believe that humans had once populated the region. I always attributed it to the Darkland's taint, myself.

(6) Actually I later found out that he had little choice. Trasha was his superior in their society, and it was never considered proper to question something a superior said.

(7) Sleeping on that cot was actually quite an achievement, what with how sharp my scales were. I nearly cut through it a couple of times in that one night. I asked them to install a bed, but no one ever followed up on it.

(8) Silver dragons actually undergo a similar process to photosynthesis. They get part of their energy from this process and part of it from eating. Which allows them to survive for long periods of time without food.

(9) Elsnieth flowers are one of the most unique organisms in the darkland ecosystem. They grow from August to May to positively monumental sizes, to the point where they can actually eat medium sized animals. Then, in June, their (currently unknown) food source disappears, and they are forced to eat their own body, dying in early July.

* * *

Well, this chapter didn't turn out quite as well as I wanted it to, but I suppose it'll do. If you find any grammatical errors, spelling errors, or errors in general mention them in a review or PM them to me. Thanks for reading!


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